


cold / warm

by Marinia



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Anorexia, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Eating, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exercising, Family Feels, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Older brother Virgil, Protective Older Brothers, anorexic roman, brotherly prinxiety - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinia/pseuds/Marinia
Summary: Roman is cold and he's hurting. But he has to keep going.Virgil just wants him toeat.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 119





	cold / warm

**Author's Note:**

> Projecting my experiences, fears and wishes on fictional characters?  
> It Is More Likely Than You Think, my dudes.

Roman sat on his training mat, shivering. His face was red and sweaty, his breaths short and heavy. His hands shook where they laid in his lap. The cheery voice of the trainer rang from the YouTube video, spurring him on to continue, just a few more seconds, he just had to pull through now, nothing worth having came easy, after all! 

His red face became blotchy, the sweat on his face joined by snot and tears as he wrapped shaking arms around his middle. As if such a thing could hide the fat resting there, as if he could deny the pounds clinging to him like leeches. He curled into himself, a small ball of fat and mucus. He must look absolutely _disgusting!_

… someone knocked at the door. Roman flinched. He tried to control his breathing and wipe away his tears, all while the trainer cheered him on. The workout had ended and she grinned past some platitudes of success and goals and- 

The door opened. Roman was still shaking. Virgil bit back a gasp, when he saw his little brother, openly weak and weeping. “Hey, Ro,” he muttered. He flopped down on the mat next to him, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. “Dad- he said that dinner’s gonna be ready soon.” 

It hadn’t been the right thing to say; Roman just turned into an even smaller ball, the hands grasping at his waist now positively _clawing_. “I don’t- I’m not hungry,” he lied. 

Virgil held back a scream; he held back the urge to hug his dramatic _dumbass_ of a brother. Had he hugged him, he would’ve found a wet, shaking mess with too many sharp edges to be healthy. He wouldn’t have hugged the boy who dragged him into playing Prince And The Dragon or the boy who scarfed down Crofter’s cookies without abandon. But Virgil couldn’t dwell on that; he sighed instead. “You’re shaking, and you’ve been up here for like, two hours. You _need_ to eat something.” 

Roman shook his head. “I already-” 

“What? What did you eat, Roman?” Virgil’s voice broke, anger mixing with desperation. 

“ _Enough_." The word was spat with more vitriol than Roman had intended. He forced himself to shrug, to seem nonchalant. "I just- just got a little hazy, is all.” 

Virgil pursed his lips. It wouldn’t do to argue. He _knew_ that. He’d gone through those shouting matches, he’d gone hoarse trying to get sense into Roman. All it’d resulted in was a closed door and even more untouched meals than usual. 

So Virgil simply nodded, wrapping an arm around his little brother. “Okay, just- get downstairs with me? You don’t have to eat with us, just… Dad made some soup for you. It’s your favourite.” The words were hollow in his mouth. Roman’s favourite foods used to be Crofter’s sandwiches, spaghetti Alfredo- damn _cupcakes_ which he wouldn’t even _look_ at anymore. 

But Roman nodded and he stood up, leaning against Virgil as if his legs were having trouble carrying him. He regained his balance though, stepping forward and putting on a sweater. Maybe he tried to hide how much he’d shrunk; actually, Roman tried hiding how he hadn’t dwindled down to _nothing_ yet. 

But they did go into the kitchen and Patton shot them both a worried look he hid with a smile. Roman returned it, talking as if everything was normal, as if his hands weren’t chronically cold. 

He ate the soup, at least, and even let himself be convinced to try the casserole their Dad had made for himself and Virgil. There was still enough for three, of course, just in case- it was more habit than hope at this point. 

Roman chewed it slowly, as if savouring it, as if he had to stop himself from actually eating, as if he swallowed choking guilt alongside the meal. But he didn’t resist when Patton gave him a small serving of the casserole, ate it with small bites and grand stories to distract them from the former. 

He did eat though, at least a little bit. And Virgil still wanted to hug him, to drag him someplace where he didn’t feel the need to become a particularly dramatic skeleton. But they sat down in the living room instead and watched _The Castle In The Sky_. The brothers even ended up cuddled together under the blanket Patton had thrown over them. Roman almost felt warm.


End file.
